Another Failed Event and a Trip to the ER

Well, yesterday was a doozy. I’m writing on very little sleep, which may not be the best idea, but since poor judgment goes hand in hand with sleep deprivation, I’m hitting the keyboard anyway.

Javan had spent the night with Grammy Friday night, and come home early yesterday  (Saturday) morning needing his mom because he had a tummy ache that had had him up since five a.m. So we snuggled and watched Pokemon until he felt better, then took a nice restorative nap. Later that afternoon, we went to a big community event, the purpose of which was to bring people together in a positive way in the worst crime area of town in an attempt to increase relationship and decrease crime. The event started at 4:00, which on a hot June day in Texas feels a lot like being drowned in Satan’s fiery armpit. But our community is important to us and we wanted to participate, plus there was tons of cool stuff like free hot dogs, snow cones, a clown making animal balloons, bounce houses, kids’ games, live music, even a strong man contest and big door prizes. I mean, our little town went all out on this one.

So we get there and the first thing they want to do is stamp our hands, which is a no-go for Javan. That’s fine, no one pushed it. We had forgotten to bring his head phones, but he actually did great with the extra loud live music beating against his eardrums. The first thing he wanted was a hot dog, but those wouldn’t be available until later, so we headed over to the bounce house area where we found about six or seven different types of large inflatable bounce houses and slides. Javan went for one with a big slide, but soon found that he did not possess the necessary motor skills to climb the ladder. Due to the intolerable heat, someone, or several someones, who went before us had the brilliant idea to dump water all over themselves and/or the jump houses, so the entrances and exits were all muddy and disgusting and Javan was not having any of that, so we headed up the hill for a snowcone instead.

While enjoying our icy treats, a tractor pulling a kids’ barrel train pulled up and Javan wanted to ride, but only if I would ride and he could sit with me. I really want him to experience lots of…experiences (Did I just run out of words? I think The Tired stole my words), so I gamely climbed up into a barrel car, but alas, my womanly hips have girth that could not be contained there within. So there would be no train ride for us. On to the clown! Javan waited in line while trying to decide whether to ask Happy the Clown to fashion his balloon into a crown or a sword. In the end, he happily walked away with a balloon puppy.

Sidenote: Happy the Clown as been around for a very long time now…am I the only one who’s noticed how he never ages!? I remember the first time I saw him. It was in a little Italian restaurant and my baby nephew, Collin, was entranced by him. Collin couldn’t have been more than a year or two old. He turns 18 this year (the amount of old this makes me feel is very rude). Happy looked the same yesterday as he did the first time I laid eyes in him. This leads me to ponder his possible vampirism or other immortality-imposing lifestyle. I will follow up on this theory in about ten years.

Back to the story. We were happily munching cherry snow cones and had just been denied train access by my…curves. But the happiness was not to last. The oppressive heat was so…oppressive  (come on, words, do the thing where you sound good!),  that there was actually a volunteer walking around offering to mist people in the face with water from her spray bottle. She approached us and asked Javan if he’d like to be sprayed. He did not understand her over the pounding music, so he stepped forward so as to hear her better. She took his step forward as a “yes, please” and promptly squirted Javan in the face three or four times. Oh, the horror that ensued! Complete meltdown in three, two, one…HOOOOOOWWWLLL!!!  The poor lady was petrified that she’d made the poor boy cry. She apologized the best she could over his incredibly loud crying and made her way hastily to the other side of the field. Aaaannnddd, yep, we weren’t coming back from that one. You cannot reason with a child in meltdown mode. Their brains are literally not wired at that moment to permit logic. So, fight or flight it is, and we wisely fled.

We were absolutely drenched in sweat and the only thing I could think of that might save the day was swimming. This suggestion was met with eagerness, plus Javan was sure Weebo would appreciate the grave injustice that had been done to him mere moments ago and offer him her grandmotherly comfort. Swimming was just what was needed, and the Tragedy of the Errant Squirter was forgotten. This poor kid. After the karate episode earlier this week and now this, if we don’t get to some pleasant events soon, his faith in humanity might never be restored.

So then right at bedtime last night, as Daddy was reading him his bedtime story, his (Dad’s) kidney began to hurt so dreadfully that I had to finish the story for him while he dealt with the pain. He’s had kidney stones for about 15 years now, so we all know the protocol. Javan went to sleep knowing he might be woken during the night for a trip to the ER. We woke him at about 10:30 to get Dad to the hospital for pain meds. Grammy, bless her pure golden heart, drove out to meet us there and let Javan spend the night with her again. Even though Javan knew in the rational part of his brain that Daddy was safe and nothing dangerous was happening, just as with a meltdown there are some situations in which the rational part of the brain has a blackout and all that’s left is extreme emergency freak-out mode. He fought to remain calm the entire half hour car ride to the hospital. His brain was blaring emergency sirens and trying to convince him that Dad was surely going to die, but he actively fought for control and other than crying a little bit, HE WON! I was so amazingly proud of him for keeping his cool when he was scared. As soon as we pulled into the hospital parking lot and he saw Grammy, he flew directly into her arms, where he visibly melted and finally lost it. But, ya’ll, he waited to lose it until it was really ok to do that. That’s a grown up skill! He walked into the hospital, walked right up to the front desk and said through the tears, “My Dad needs help.” He’s such a little trooper. He stayed for about another five minutes and then let Grammy take him home.

We’re home now and Hubby is doing ok, although he’s not very comfortable and he’s quite doped up. We spent about 12 hours in the ER getting cat-scans and trying to get the pain under control. The stone he’s currently trying to pass is 8 mm, which is abominally hugenormous, and will not likely pass on its own. Her (the stone’s) name is Big Bertha. We see a urologist tomorrow for birthing treatment options, the most likely of which I call the “Star Wars option,” where they get in there and blow up the stone with a laser gun. And bye-bye, Bertha.

And as a final note, which leaves me with both heartbreak and hope, I’ll let you in on a bitter-sweet secret wish Javan told us he made while tossing a penny in a fountain this afternoon when he was with Grammy. He wished that he would never hurt us (Mom and Dad) again. Ouch. I mean, ooouuuccchh. But also, yay, it’s good that he’s wanting to do better and he’s thinking about that while he’s calm so that maybe he can make progress when he’s not. He is really a phenomenal kid, and he’s making fabulous progress, and I’m so very proud of him.


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